


One more light

by TheOrangeAurora



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of alcohol, major character death that I needed to get out of my mind, mentions of OD, mentions of vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 08:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13632597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOrangeAurora/pseuds/TheOrangeAurora
Summary: "Who cares if one more light goes outIn the sky of a million stars?It flickers, flickers.Who cares when someone's time runs outIf a moment is all we are?Or quicker, quicker.Who cares if one more light goes out?Well, I do."One more light by Linkin Park





	One more light

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that has been going through my mind for a while when listening to One More Light by Linkin Park. It's not the greatest writing but I wanted to get it out of my mind.

The morning sun was gentle, tickling the tip of his nose and slowly, slowly his eyes opened, at first blearily before the world became as clear as it ever could. His sight had gone from bad to worse, and it was something he wanted to blame the tears for. The way that they had made him rub his eyes one too many times until there were no more tears left to fall from the ducts and only the itchy ache settled into the corners as a reminder.

His heart felt halved and he lied in the bed unmoving for what felt like an eternity, feeling the warmth next to him breathe slowly, peacefully.

He closed his eyes again, and there was a gentle sigh that broke from the half-asleep lungs, making the world feel a little more uncertain, colours appearing behind the closed lids. They made him nauseous, made him feel like he was spiralling again. His fingers curled into the fabric of the duvet so tightly they hurt, but he paid the ache no mind.

Breathe.

One long breath in.

Another long breath out.

Count to three.

Repeat.

A thought. 

Soft fingers trailing over his collarbones and a head of curly hair pressed up against the side of his neck, the breath, hot and wet against his skin. The weight of another body up against his side. Breaths, sweet inhales of oxygen filling the lungs, making the chest rise up and the heart beat calmly. 

A shift by his side made him wearily open his eyes again, and suddenly he felt so much older, the corners of his mouth dragging downwards and the dull ache in his head a reminiscence of long nights bawling his eyes out. The sun had turned the corner and the shadows now coated his heavy body darkly, cooly, the breeze from the open window making him shiver.

“Good morning, Bear,” He murmured, his voice thick and raspy as Phil finally rolled over and closer to the warmth by his side. It was met with a low sound before a dark curly head of a dog poked out from beneath the duvet, instantly offering a joyous lick at the man's face that still took Phil aback enough to jump, and a low sound, similar to laughter escaped his lips, but died down soon enough when he ran his hand through the curly fur.

“Breakfast?” He asked and watched the familiar dark eyes blink a couple of times before the large dog scurried off of the bed and out of the room. 

It was when Bear was already next to his bowl sitting patiently and wagging his tail, that Phil appeared in the doorway, a worn-out t-shirt covering the earlier bare chest, equally worn pyjama pants long faded from their bright hues after many washes and nobody by his side to remind which detergent was best to maintain the brightness. The kitchen was low-lit with the light he'd forgotten above the sink the night before and he clicked it off before he filled the dog bowl with food, the room soon filled with the excited crunches. 

The counter pressed against his lower back when he leaned against it, the dark-rimmed glasses low on his nose, sliding a little lower when he looked down at his socked feet, the colours as faded as everything about his existence ever since…

A sigh, heavy and trembling around the edges broke from somewhere deep within his soul, and he looked up again, eyes landing on the small kitchen table, where two chairs sat across each other; one's paint was chipped from the usage, the other crisp with considerably less. A knot in his throat, he tried to shake the thoughts away.

_“Two.”_

_“But Phil...”_

_“Y-you know… In case of guests,” He lied poorly._

The scent of coffee filled his nostrils but it was after a single sip that he set the mug aside, his appetite long lost. Dull blue eyes looked out the window, where the early summer bloomed joyously despite the forever overcast sky hanging above the city. Life continued on from day to day and the city bustled with the people scurrying on their own business. 

It felt cold. Uncaring. 

He knew he was wrong to be angry, but his lips were a thin line and the crease in his forehead once again was deep and dark as he blinked at the group of friends laughing. 

_“You sure you'll be fine?”_

_“Of course, Phil, go have fun with your friends. I'll call you if anything.”_

_“I love you, you know?”_

_“I know. Now go, you dolt, I love you.”_

_“See you in a couple of days.”_

_“Bye, Phil.”_  
  
The shoes that he toed on were still tight, not worn in properly, though he had owned them for quite a while now. The footsteps against the pavement were loud though he had his earbuds in and his hood was over his eyes though his tall frame made it easy for most to see him if they cared to look. 

_“I feel so much better without the meds!”_

_“You sure?”_

_“Phil, stop worrying so much. My therapist said it's good to ease off the medication if I feel like I can go on without it.”_

_“Sure, sure. I just want to know that you feel like it's the right time.”_

_“I do.”_

The tube was stuffy and he stood in the corner, blank gaze staring out the window where the dark tunnel walls were exchanged with lighter ones as each station went by. Bear sat at his feet, on the leash, curiously sniffing at the leg of Phil's trousers and the man zoned back in enough to scratch the mutt behind the ear before his thoughts strayed away once again.

_“Dan, I'm home! Sorry I missed your call, my charger broke again.”_

_“Dan?”_

_“D--”_

_“N-no, Dan, no, please-- Can you hear me?! Dan?!”_

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, as the memory of a pale face, covered in a mixture of fluids that he didn't want to think about, began to float in front of him. 

He yearned for that dimply smile, for that warmth in the brown eyes, for the obnoxiously loud laughter and those big, clumsy hugs. All he could recall was the paleness, the way his body was limp and heavy, how there was nothing alive left in those eyes and how the room reeked of alcohol and vomit, and sweat. 

_“My most heartfelt condolences.”_

_Faces were a blur, only thing concrete before him the pile of dirt, pressing down on the body enclosed in a wooden box. He felt the weight on his own chest, breaths almost nonexistent as if he wanted them to cease forever._

“Stay here, Bear,” He patted the dog on the head once more when he left it tied to the same tree he always would when they visited. There was a low whine, sympathetic, the canine feeling the pain of the man, but unable to help it.

He just gave the dog another smile that never reached his eyes, “I'll be back in a moment.” He promised.

When he sat on the thinly grassy patch before the tombstone, his whole being yearned to be below it though he'd promised to live on.

Arms in his lap, he regarded the stone with one more light smile.

“Hey, Dan, Happy Birthday.”

He paused.

“I still love you.”


End file.
